


Trouble in Paradise (Don't Drink the Water)

by zgory



Category: A Perfect Getaway (2009), Actor RPF, Thor (2011) RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen, M/M, Schmoop, Serial Killers, Surfing, Vacation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-14
Updated: 2012-09-14
Packaged: 2017-11-14 05:04:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/511616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zgory/pseuds/zgory
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tom and Chris' vacation is interrupted by a rather strange individual.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trouble in Paradise (Don't Drink the Water)

**Author's Note:**

> No actual spoilers for _A Perfect Getaway_ in the story, but they are in the end notes. 
> 
> Mentions of Nantucket, whaling, and cannibalism are in reference to _In the Heart of the Sea_ , a non-fiction book about the sinking of a whaling ship which left its members at the mercy of the Pacific Ocean for ninety days. So far, Chris Hemsworth is attached to a movie version so this story takes place in the future.

“This is going to be a lot of fun,” declares Tom enthusiastically as their jeep comes to a stop at the little private beach.

Chris just smiles lazily at him as he cuts the engine. “I’m counting on it. Really need to get my land legs back. As well as get some sun and surf to get all those Nantucketers and whales out of my head even if for just a day.”

“And the cannibalism,” adds Tom as he gathers up his bag from the back seat.

Chris blanches a bit. “And that. The only craving for human flesh I ever want is the carnal kind.”

Tom throws back his head and genuinely laughs. “Afraid I can’t help you with that. It would’ve better suited you to bring along El—” he stops himself before he can put his foot in his mouth. Chris is getting away for a certain reason, and Tom chides himself on being absent minded enough to forget and nearly bring up that reason.

Chris shows no sign of having heard him save for a brief thinning of his lips. Instead he gently elbows Tom and waggles his eyebrows goofily. “You never know,” he teases back.

The Brit flushes and turns his attention to the breathtaking view laid out before them. Crops of palm trees mark the start of the beach, and their tops sway gently in the ocean breeze. The rest of the jungle is full of lush green trees that he would very much like to explore if given the chance. It looks untouched by man and allowed to grow wild as nature intended. The ocean is the most arresting sight with its vast blue depths which twinkle in the sun’s bright rays. The only noise to greet his ears is the crash of the distant waves. He’s a bit breathless at the sight of it all.

“How ever did you manage to find out about this little piece of paradise?”

Chris jovially wraps an arm around Tom’s shoulders and squeezes. “Afraid that’s a secret,” he answers with a mischievous little smile.

Tom playfully rolls his eyes at the younger actor. “Really?”

The Aussie smiles his carefree smile while lightly knocking their heads together. “There was a wonderful little birdie on the set who gave me the scoop.”

“Did you eat that little birdie afterwards so no one else could find out?”

Chris pushes him away with a huff before scrambling down the little hill. “Race you there! Loser has to unload the rest of the gear!”

Tom quickly looks back to the jeep which is full of sleeping bags, various blankets, wood, and a surfboard. Then he whips back around to the head start Chris has. He immediately drops the bags in his hand and races after his co-star. “You cheating bastard!”

Chris just laughs in reply and drops the stuff he had carried with him to give him more speed. Tom just pumps his legs harder and stretches them to their limit. As many physical feats as Chris can perform, running is still Tom’s domain. With a final push, he actually manages to ease past Chris, and his feet are the first to touch upon the uneven sand. He slows down considerably and makes the mistake of stopping to catch his breath. That’s when Chris catches him around the middle and the two of them go tumbling into the unbelievably soft sand.

Their breaths come out in harsh pants as both actors lay on their backs to peer up at the cloudless sky. After a few silent moments when their breaths have evened out, Tom turns over to Chris and nudges him in the side with a smile on his face. “My bags aren’t going to get themselves.”

“Let a man catch his breath first,” complains Chris.

“Your breath is plenty caught up, so don’t try to back out of your own terms,” replies Tom in a joking tone.

With a grumble, Chris finally gets up and trudges back in the direction of the car. Tom closes his eyes, inhales deeply, and soaks in the sun’s warm rays. After exhaling, he promptly jogs after Chris despite the way his legs scream at him. At the Aussie’s questioning glance, he says, “I’ve decided to be a gracious winner.”

* * *

Their day proves to be a most excellent one. Tom had been set on just lying out beneath the sun to see if he could be anything besides pale. Being the beach lover that he is, Chris plucks away his intended reading material and insists he partake in more physical activities.

Tom readjusts his sunglasses and smiles up at the shirtless Australian. “Is that what you’re calling it now? Well no matter how you rephrase it, the answer is still no for now.”

Chris rolls his eyes and smiles good-naturedly. “Come on,” he replies as he hoists Tom up by the arm. “I want to see how well you take to the water.”

Tom rolls his eyes from behind his sunglasses and exaggeratedly huffs. “If you must,” he says as Chris leads him over to a surfboard.

Chris turns out to be a pretty good instructor. He drills him on snapping into the proper position so as to get good balance. He is also very hands on as he doesn’t hesitate to readjust Tom to that proper position. He mentally blames the sun for the way his skins seems to heat up at his co-star’s touch. After spending a decent amount of time practicing on the beach, Chris declares him to be ocean ready.

Tom nervously looks out to the ocean and scratches the back of his head. “Are you sure about that? I may need a few more lessons.”

Chris lays a reassuring hand on his shoulder and squeezes it gently. “Mate, I wouldn’t sacrifice your life just to prove how good of a teacher I am. I just think you’re a quick study.”

Tom pushes his sunglasses to rest on the top of his curly head of hair and gazes out at the ocean. The waves are indeed pretty non-existent, and it would just be an exercise in standing upright in open water. He can swim so the fear of drowning isn’t ingrained in him. He only has the fear of making an ass of himself out there. But Chris’ attitude is so optimistic that it pushes those silly fears out of the way. He turns back to Chris and smiles at him. “Let’s do it.”

Chris wades out with him until he’s waist deep in the water, and Tom’s surprised to find himself paddling past the waves already. The Aussie gives him a reassuring pat on the back and tells him to go for it whenever he thinks it’s a good time. “Just remember your positions.”

Tom nods and spots a nice little swell heading towards him. Navigating himself to face the beach, he waits until the board starts moving forward and quickly tries to pop up on the board. His footing slips, and he tumbles into the ocean. He pushes his arms out and kicks towards the surface.

Breaking the surface, he spits out a mouthful of salt water and shakes his head from side to side. He blinks several times and swims towards where Chris and the wayward surfboard are. The younger actor smiles and pats the object. “Good for a first try.”

“I fell off,” counters Tom.

“Hey, no one’s perfect. You should’ve seen some of the wipeouts I had when I first learned.” He gives the board another pat. “Come one. You’ve almost got it.”

Tom bites back whatever comments of self-doubt he may have in the face of this continued belief in him. He gets back on and paddles a bit further. This time he doesn’t even get to pop up as he takes too long, and the wave manages to push him back almost all the way to the beach. Chris holds back a snicker, and Tom feels himself going red which he will blame on the sun.

“Third time’s the charm?” offers Chris.

With a sigh, Tom paddles back out there, but it turns out that some sayings do not prove true. Even on the fourth try or fifth try or tenth try. Even with Chris’ confidence in him, Tom is reaching the end of his rope. “This is the last one!” he declares as he determinedly digs deep into the water with his arms.

This time when he pops up on the board and establishes firm footing he feels something click. His body moves in tune with the board, and he rides out the wave. Joy floods him, and he holds his arms up victoriously. He whoops with happiness and looks around for Chris which is when he falls off again. He’s too pleased with himself to care this time.

When he resurfaces, Chris is wading up to him with a huge smile on his face. “Good job! That was excellent,” he congratulates as he heartily pats Tom on the back.

Tom’s smile is still in place as he titters. “Yes, well I’ll learn to stick the landing better next time.”

“Next time?”

“Of course! Now that I’ve got the hang of it, I’m going to give you a run for your money,” jokes Tom as he pokes Chris in his impressive abs.

Chris laughs in return and slings a companionable arm around Tom. The Brit grabs hold of the surfboard, and the two men make their way back to the beach. They flop back down on to their towels, and Tom is mindful to slather on some sunscreen before drifting off as the sun dries him.

When he awakes, the sun is lower in the sky and not as bright. Chris walks from the tree line with several branches in hand and dumps them into a little fire pit he must have constructed while Tom was napping. The other man has also re-donned his t-shirt.

Rubbing his eyes of sleep, he digs through his bag for his own discarded t-shirt. He pulls it over his head and says, “You should’ve woke me up. It’s not fair you had to assemble this all on your own.”

Chris wipes his hands and plops down into the soft sand. “That’s why you get to light it,” he comments as he tosses a box of matches at Tom.

He catches them and smirks back at the younger man. “Not so altruistic as I thought then.” He successfully strikes the first match and sets a pile of dead leaves around the wood on fire. He watches as the orange flames consume the branches and rapidly lick their way across the surface of the logs where it just dances for the longest time.

He’s quite lost in thought as he stares into the fire pit until he hears a rumbling. He realizes it’s his stomach, and as if on cue a sandwich lands in his lap. He looks over to Chris who is happily munching away on his own food. The Aussie raises his sandwich as if in salute, and Tom does the same with his own before unwrapping it and taking a large bite.They eat in silence, and afterwards, Chris takes their garbage and deposits it back in their little picnic basket for future disposal. By this time, the sky is a beautiful mixture of pinks and purples with some orange at the fringes. The two men watch the sunset in awe, and then marvel at the stars as they present themselves one by one.

Feeling a slight chill, Tom reaches over for the blankets and hands one to Chris before wrapping the other one around himself. The heat from the fire helps to dispel any further chills, but the desire for contact pushes him to move closer to Chris. His co-star doesn’t immediately react when their shoulders slightly brush against each other, but Tom eventually feels a large hand tentatively place itself over his own.

He releases a sigh as his head cranes back to take in the night sky. “Beautiful, isn’t it?”

The fingers on that broad hand gently brush against his. “Sure is.”

* * *

Their second day starts with the luxury of sleeping in. Tom stretches from inside his sleeping bag and rolls until the light pressing against his closed eyelids is not as bright. Opening them, he is greeted by the sight of Chris snoring softly right next to him in his own sleeping bag.

The urge to relieve himself suddenly presses upon him, and he strolls towards the edge of the wooded area to do so. It is still just as peaceful and quiet as the day before, and Tom’s desire to explore is still strong. Glancing back at the slumbering Aussie, he decides to let him keep sleeping as they are on vacation.

It’s just as lush and green in the little jungle as he imagined it would be. His ears pick up the distant sounds of scampering animals and the occasional bird. Nature paints a beautiful picture as he comes across many types of flowers and other plant life.

He comes out into another clearing which has a spectacular view of the ocean with its sparkling depths. He holds up a hand to shield his eyes from the insistent rays of the sun and sighs in awe of it all.

“Quite a view, isn’t it?”

Tom whirls around in surprise at the deep voice from behind him and has to blink several times at the sight before him. For a split second, he wonders how Chris managed to shorn off all of his hair and grow such strange facial hair in such a short amount of time. Then he realizes this bare-chested stranger is not in fact his co-star though there is an uncanny resemblance. He tries to focus in on the differences such as this stranger’s slightly more narrow build, the strange lilt to his smile, and the aforementioned hair situation.

“Y-yes, it is,” replies Tom, and he smiles nervously at his own stammer. “I’m sorry, but you just took me off guard. I wasn’t aware that there any other tourists at this beach.”

The man continues staring at him with that little smirk and chuckles. “Well I’m a man of many surprises.”

Never one to be rude, Tom sticks out his hand. “I’m Tom.”

The man glances down at his hand, and his eyes seem to rake over Tom’s form before meeting his eyes. The Brit tries to suppress the tingle he feels. A rough, calloused hand soon takes his and gives it a slow yet firm shake. “Pleasure to meet you.”

Tom waits for an introduction in turn, but one does not seem forthcoming. “And you are…” he tries prodding.

The grip on his hand tightens, and the man’s face seems to harden ever so slightly when Chris’ voice is heard close by.

“Tom? Are you there?” The other actor comes into view and stops short at the sight of the two of them. Confusion dominates his face as he stares at the other man, but something else quickly flickers across his companion’s face. He can’t recognize it but the stranger does judging by the lazy smile on his face.

“I just went exploring when I ran into…” Tom’s explanation trails off at the lack of a name for this new acquaintance.

“Kale,” supplies the other man. He scrutinizes Chris with a long look and pulls his hand away from Tom to offer it to Chris. “Do you hail from the land of Oz?”

Chris blinks rapidly at the question before an uneasy smile breaks across his own face. He slowly reaches forward and gives him a quick shake. “Yeah. The name’s Chris.”

The stranger hums. “Descended from a land of criminals and debtors, eh?”

Chris pulls his hand away, and the smile falls from his face. “Uh, I think the Aborigines were there first.”

“Yeah, but come on. You don’t look like the descendant of an indigenous people.”

Chris has no response to this and looks to Tom. He inclines his head slightly in signal that they should leave now. As Tom sidles towards Chris, Kale moves so as to come between the two of them. An exaggerated frown pulls at his mouth. “Aww, come on. Did I push a button? Sorry.” He bats his eyelids in accordance with his apology.

“No, not at all,” soothes Tom in a placating manner which has Chris clearing his throat as if trying to call bull. Before he can think twice about it, Tom asks, “Would you like to join us? We’re just out on the beach.”

Chris’ eyes widen at the invitation while Kale simply rolls his shoulders back. “Well aren’t you the most posh British gentleman. I’d love to.”

A tight smile manifests on Tom’s face, and he nods. “I aim to please.”

Kale chuckles again and really seems to stare at Tom this time. “Okay then. I got a little place nearby, but I’d love to join in on all the fun.” He walks away and waves from behind his back.

The two actors watch him leave and when he seems to be out of sight, Chris whirls on him. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Being polite,” responds Tom defensively.

“To that guy? Were you paying attention to the words coming out of his mouth?”

Tom sighs and walks back into the jungle with Chris following him. “I’ll admit he seems a bit unorthodox,” Chris snorts at this statement, “but that’s no reason to be rude in return.”

“Doesn’t mean you have to invite him along,” mutters the Aussie as he matches Tom step for step.

“Are you just jealous I’ve invited some new blood to the mix?” asks Tom teasingly.

Chris’ brows furrow, and he scoffs as he glances sidelong at Tom. “Oh yeah, cause I’m green with envy over that sweet porn ‘stache.”

Tom elbows him in the side as he tries to keep his own smile from showing. “Be nice. I’m sure his significant other prefers the feel of all that hair all rubbing against their face.”

“Oh, is that what you’re into?” jokes Chris. He waggles his eyebrows at Tom, and the Brit internally sighs that his friend is being less hostile to the idea.

“Why yes, it is,” counters Tom with a simper as he drags a hand across his face and down his throat. He plays with the collar of his undershirt and drags it down so as to caress his own collarbone. His tongue flicks out for emphasis.

To his surprise Chris watches this display with dropped mouth and wide eyes instead of pushing him back. The younger man is so focused on Tom that he promptly runs straight into a tree and falls back on his rear with a grunt.

Tom stops in shock before a wide grin breaks over his face, and he tilts his head back with laughter. He has to hold his sides, and Chris looks none too pleased for it. His laughs take forever to stutter out, and he wipes the errant tears from his eyes as he offers a hand to the fallen actor. “I’m sorry. Are you okay?”

“Everything save my pride,” answers the Aussie as he grabs hold of Tom’s hand.

Another fit of giggles threaten to burst out of him, and he clamps his mouth shut to stop them. The attempt is obvious though as Chris looks unimpressed at him. Then the slightest of smiles tugs at the corner of Chris’ mouth, and Tom feels the hold on his hand tighten before he is being tugged down on top of his co-star. Chris breaks his fall, and Tom feels a flush working up his neck as he is mere inches from Chris’ face. His breath catches in his throat, and an amused smile works its way across Chris’ face.

Suddenly, Chris rolls them over so that he’s on top. He stares up in awe at the way the sun bounces off his golden hair creating a soft halo of light. It is in direct opposition to the absolutely predatory smile dancing on his lips. Lips which now bend towards his ear and fans warm breath across the side of his face. He continues to stare straight ahead at the canopy of leaves as he hears, “Race you to the beach.”

He blinks several times as the spell breaks. “Wh-what?”

Chris now leans back on Tom’s legs with that goofy smile on his face. “You heard me. Last one there has to make food for our guest!” Then he’s scrambling off again with another ill-gotten head start.

Tom sighs in frustration as he hurries to his feet. “Act your age, Hemsworth!” he shouts as he gives chase. He actively ignores the twitch between his legs.

* * *

“What could you possibly need that for?” Tom had lost the race to Chris and was thus setting out their brunch picnic. More sandwiches and a chicken were being laid out as well as some fruit. Chris had taken the fruit and pulled out a knife. The Brit eyes the weapon skeptically.

Chris looks back at him questioningly. “What? It’s coming in handy right now!” He starts to carve up the fruit into conveniently chewable sizes.

Tom scoffs. “Well, yes, but why would you bring that along? Where did you get that anyway?”

“What’s all this interest with my personal belongings?”

“Just curious is all,” replies Tom with a shrug of his shoulders as he continues to eye the knife.

Chris promptly inserts the knife into the mango and starts to peel it like he’s some sort of expert. Mango’s a nice, juicy fruit trying to handle the sticky yellow thing has always been a hassle. The Aussie before him uses the knife as if it were designed to be a mango peeler.

“I’ll have you know,” begins Chris, “that this happened to be from the set of my film. A gift if you will”

Tom’s eyebrows lift at the answer. “A self-appointed one or properly given?”Chris’ silence is answer enough to which Tom rolls his eyes and sighs good naturedly. “Figures such action would be taken by such an animalistic sailor man such as yourself.” He pulls out water bottles from their little cooler when another thought strikes him. “Please don’t tell me that’s what you used while serving up your fellow crewmembers. Because if so then I must protest it being used on food we’re about to ingest.”

“Did all those night shoots addle your brain?” counters Chris. “This baby,” he waves the blade before digging it into the fruit to create servable slices, “has only ever been used for woodwork when I had to learn whittling. And yes, it’s been washed since then,” adds the younger actor mockingly.

“You call that a knife,” adds another voice.

The two actors whip around to see their guest has arrived. Kale stands above them with his shirt completely open to expose his impressive body. That strange smile of his once again plays at his mouth as he looks at the two men on the blanket. One hand is hidden behind his back, and Tom is aware of Chris adjusting so as to be in the middle of the assembled group. Kale notices as well and just snorts.

“This is a knife,” both actors momentarily tense as he brings about his hand to reveal... a wine bottle.

Tom slightly sags in relief and then internally chides himself for thinking the worse. He notices Chris shoulders are still bunched together and raises a hand to lightly touch them. It has the affect of the younger man flinching slightly before glancing at him and finally releasing the tension.

Kale’s smile is full tilt with teeth bared now. “Sorry. Couldn’t resist.” He promptly sits down on a corner of the blanket and holds out the bottle. “A present for my gracious hosts.”

Tom accepts it with a nod and a smile and places it in the cooler. “Why thank you. That was very kind of you.”

“Not as kind as asking a complete stranger to breakfast,” comments Kale with that wide smile and a little wink.

Tom can’t help but keep smiling in return as he says, “Well I’m not one to leave someone out of the festivities.” Chris suspiciously clears his throat to this statement, and it is pointedly ignored.

“And what a grand spread this is,” compliments their new acquaintance as he moves his hand above the food. They all dig in soon after, and silence descends as they all thoughtfully chew on their food. Then the silence continues as they all sit around awkwardly. Tom idly traces patterns in the sand, Chris fiddles with the saran wrap from his sandwich while throwing glances at their guest, and Kale reaches for an apple and takes a big bite from it. “So what brings you two lovebirds out here?” he asks between chews. This question elicits a difference of reactions from the two other men. Tom halts his absent minded tracing, and Chris’ eyebrows shoot into his head.

“We’re on vacation,” answers Chris at the same time Tom says, “We’re just friends.”

Their acquaintance hums in response to these answers. “Ahhhh. Best friends, I see. What’s your story? Bosom buddies? Middle-school brotherhood pact? Seems to be pretty strong to have survived such a long distance apart judging by your accents.”

Tom looks over to Chris with a smile on his face while the Aussie scratches a spot beneath his ear. “Actually,” begins Tom with his a soft chuckle, “we happened to be co-workers, but once we met there was just this instant camaraderie which sprang up.”

“And what does this profession happen to be?”

Chris good naturedly pats Tom on the knee and smiles warmly at him. “We’re actors.”

This answer draws a sharp whistle from Kale. “Well color me envious. Getting paid to slip into the skin of someone else and tell that story to the masses. Must give you quite the thrill.”

Tom nods enthusiastically. “Most definitely! Especially when you really get to dive into your character’s head and try to dissect what makes them tick and then you interact in an environment where your co-workers are doing the same thing.”

“Yeah,” adds Chris. “It’s just great and satisfying every time you show up on set. Bringing written words to life and visualizing that getaway experience for everyone.”

Kale slowly nods his head through this explanation and smiles as if humoring a small child. But then he sidles closer to the two of them and leans his head in conspiratorially. “Do you ever just lose yourself in a role?” he asks in a low tone which is nearly swallowed up by the sound of the waves nearby.

Tom nods his head immediately. “Definitely. There’s a character I’ve recently had to revisit a lot who’s just so intense, and some days the character bleed is inevitable.”

“But it doesn’t last too long,” continues Chris as he pats Tom’s knee again, “and he manages to make it back to his unbelievably cheery self.”

Kale turns his head towards Chris with that same self-satisfied smile on his face. “And what about you, Crocodile Dundee? Ever get lost in your own dream world of magic?”

Chris’ jaw tenses at the underhanded slight, so Tom answers, “He practically is his characters. He just so easily encapsulates certain masculine qualities while retaining an affable charm which is most certainly difficult to replicate.”

His co-star’s eyebrows shoot up, and a corner of his mouth slightly lifts at the praise. The guest whistles again, but his eyes are locked on Tom. “Did you have a side of thesaurus along with your sandwich? I’ll be damned if that wasn’t the most eloquent piece of praise I’ve ever heard for another human being. You’ve really got a way with words there, Tommy.” The Brit’s mouth slightly turns down at the given nickname, but their guest continues on. “No critic could ever compare to the acclaim you’ve just given, and I’m sure the pair of you receives a lot of that. No one’s spitting in your face.” His eyes crinkle at the corners as he smiles at them with tight lips.

“It’s more like they’re spitting at your back,” remarks Chris. “Internet’s a nasty place filled with anonymous armies ready to tear you down.”

Kale shrugs. “Yeah, but they don’t really matter now do they?”

“Everyone matters,” counters Tom, “and while some are nastier than others, the point is positivity. To continually strive forward and not let that negativity drag you down.”

“And optimistic to boot!” exclaims Kale as he enthusiastically claps his hands together. “I like you a lot, Tom.” He points at Chris with squinted eyes. “You. Not so much.” The two actors sit there awkwardly, and Tom is sure the bewildered expression on Chris’ face is the same as his own.

Kale throws his head back and laughs in a series of short barks. He slaps the side of his thigh and toddles into a crouched position. “You two just kill me.” He springs up and looks down on the two of them with that strange smile of his which now starts to make Tom uneasy. “Thank you for showing a low-life such as myself how the other half vacations.”

When he holds out his hand out to Chris for a shake, the Aussie briefly glances up at the visitor, and his jaw tenses ever so slightly once again. The contact between their hands lasts barely a second, and Tom thinks he may have even imagined it. He is sure to put on a smile when that same hand is offered to him. As that rough hand encloses over his, Kale’s other hand claps the outside of his hand to momentarily trap it. Tom looks up, and he finds himself the recipient of a most hungry stare. The smile on that almost familiar face is empty and despite the sun bearing down on them, Tom feels his skin unpleasantly tingle.

Chris pointedly coughs and those calloused palms are sliding away from him. The empty smile remains on Kale’s face as nods at the younger actor. “Enjoy the rest of your stay,” he drawls with a two-finger salute before he treks back into the jungle in an exaggerated march.

Once the man disappears into the tree line, Chris flops back on to the blanket and releases a large sigh. “I need a drink.”

Tom nods in agreement and immediately reaches for the cooler.

* * *

They put off drinks as packing up camp takes precedence. It takes a few trips until they are just left with a singular blanket and the cooler.

“Let’s have this be the end to our little getaway,” says Tom as he pats the cooler fondly. Chris agrees to this, and the plan is to drink it up, sleep it off, and depart once they awake.

Then the plan adjusts when they find the wine from Kale to be the only alcohol they have. Chris grimaces as Tom manages to open it up. “Nah, mate. I’ll just watch you get silly and then haul your drunken ass back to the car.”

Tom jiggles the bottle. “That won’t be fun.”

“It will be for me,” says Chris as he hands Tom a cup.

“How can I trust you to not take advantage of me during my inebriated state?” jokes Tom as he strokes the neck of the bottle.

“Well that’s the thing, isn’t it? You’ve just got to trust me,” replies Chris with that winning smile of his.

For a second, Tom sees Kale’s stretched grin, but then he shakes the image out and starts to pour. He lifts the cup to his co-star. “Your loss then.”

“Cheers,” says Chris in return as he mimes the same motion.

Tom takes a tentative sip and smiles at the strong, bitter taste. “Not exactly a single malt whiskey, but it’ll do,” he says. He continues to sip at the drink as Chris lays back on the blanket with one arm propping up his head as he watches Tom. The Brit takes a long swig as he absorbs the sight. No doubt, Chris is attractive, but something strikes him as he looks into those bright, blue eyes. He imagines them crinkling at the corners to appear less than sincere. If they darkened just a tad, they could easily imitate a predatory gaze. He shakes himself out of such a train of thought and downs the rest of the cup. His cheeks feel warm. As he pours his second cup, he says, “Did you notice… the… resemblance Very uncanny.”

He brings his eyes up to meet Chris’ whose then drift away to watch the ocean. “I guess,” he slowly responds. “Like looking at a fun house mirror.”

“Well then it must have been like looking at a department store mirror for him,” replies Tom after another drink. “Scrutinizing something you want very much and weighing the actuality of your desire against the reality of what it is.” He swallows some more and notes somewhere in the back of his mind how it doesn’t taste as strong anymore. “And then when you do decide to go for it, you look at the price and nearly have a heart attack.” Another small sip. “Then it’s back to the mirror where you really look, and it becomes a battle of the price you want to pay which is only bolstered by how damn good looking you are.” He downs the rest of the contents and licks his lips with a satisfied grin.

Chris stares at him with amusement tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Are you drunk already?”

Tom scoffs as he reaches for the bottle again. “You really have no idea what you’re missing out on. This is a damn good bottle.” He pours a third cup and toasts the jungle. “To Kale.”

Chris’ eyes flicker towards the green environment and then he reaches for a cup of his own. “I guess a sip or two won’t hurt.” He takes the bottle and inspects it. “Though it does help that you’ve nearly killed the whole thing.”

“Have not!” exclaims Tom as he imbibes some more.

The younger man simply raises an eyebrow at makes his point by upending the bottle into his cup. What comes out is little more than a trickle, and Tom snorts at it. He holds out his own cup to Chris. “You’re welcome to mine then seeing as I may have had enough.”

“Thanks.” Chris’ warm fingers overlap his as he takes the cup, and Tom is reminded of those two rough hands which had just held his. He nearly drops the cup if it were not for Chris’ large hand already over it. The Aussie transfers some of Tom’s wine into his cup and when he hands it back, Tom avoids trying to touch him. The cup still feels heavy in his hands.

“Cheers,” says Chris again as he raises his cup.

“Cheers,” returns Tom though it sounds half-hearted on his tongue. He knocks his plastic cup to Chris and downs the rest as if he were dying of thirst. He sighs in contentment, places the cup aside, and slowly lays back down to soak in the sun. He turns to Chris who is just swishing his cup around in circles. The other man smiles at him.

“Who would’ve known you were such a lush?” teases the Aussie.

Tom squints his eyes at him and reaches out for his cup. “If you’re not going to finish it then let me have it.” Chris relinquishes his hold on the cup, and Tom finishes the remains of his drink as well. He tosses this cup and lies back down on the blanket.

A hand pats him on the stomach, and Chris towers over him and brushing sand from his legs. “I’ll just be taking this, and then we’ll have to say goodbye to all of this.” He says this wistfully and lingers in place for awhile longer before picking up the cooler and walking back to the jeep.

As the sun bakes into his skin, Tom feels a strange sort of lethargy settle into his bones. It is not the usual drowsiness of drunkenness, but a numbing sensation which leaves him feeling loose and not in control of his limbs. He thinks to lift his hand to block out the sun, but it doesn’t obey his command. Curiously enough, a shadow descends over his him, and he’s thankful for it. Opening his eyes, he sees a blurry version of Chris standing right in front of him.

“You really enjoyed my present,” says the figure.

The lack of an Australian accent registers with Tom, and he tries to sit up but can barely manage to get his arms to push him up. A rough hand grabs his forearm, and Tom is being pulled to his feet. Even then he can barely find his balance which is where the arm around his waist comes into play. Fuzz brushes against his forehead, and he pushes against a bare chest to observe the person holding him and ends up squinting so as to better analyze the familiar face in front of him.

“Kale? What brings you back?” The words feel thick on his tongue.

The arm around him tightens like a metal band, and the smile takes a sinister turn as it creeps and crawls around the other man’s face. “Just making sure you enjoyed the gift,” he wiggles the empty bottle back and forth in his hand. “Though I do wish you had cared to share it some more. Would’ve made things a lot easier.”

Questions crowd his mind, and for once, his mouth struggles to formulate a response. Shouts are heard which precede loud huffs, and he turns his head to see Chris has returned.

“Hey! Uh, we’re leaving now but uh… thanks for the bottle. And for um, getting him to his feet.” He takes a step forward with the intention of relieving the other man of Tom (or maybe vice versa he thinks).

Tom also flops an arm in Chris’ direction with the intention of holding an arm out to him. To his confusion, that thick arm is still wrapped around his waist. His proximity to Kale allows him to hear the low chuckles emanating from his mouth. “Seems like he’s had a little much. Why don’t you let him sleep it off at my place? You’re free to come with.”

Tom shakes his head at this deal and tries pushing away again. “No, no I’m fine,” he says the same time Chris says, “That’s okay. We’re good.”

“I insist,” replies Kale.

“We’re good,” insists Chris as Tom tries squirming away again.

“I’m not too far away,” continues Kale. “Just keep going down the coast, take a left at the second clearing, and we’re bound to show up at my door sooner rather than later.”

Tom weakly pats the arm around him. “Thank you,” he slurs, “but that won’t be necessary.”

Kale’s lips turn downward. “It will be.”

Tom suddenly finds himself plummeting towards the soft sand as his support abruptly leaves him. He manages to get his arms beneath him to catch some of his fall. The inside of his head is absolutely screwy now and the sensation of pounding manifests into actual noises.

“Seems like you’ve had enough to slow you down,” comments a mocking voice. With dread, Tom realizes the sound of pounding is because Kale has cold cocked Chris. The younger actor’s head whips back, and as he is stunned from the blow, the other man lands a blow to his gut. Chris bends over and chokes at the lack of air. During the moment of vulnerability, Kale raises the bottle above his head and brings it down across Chris’ back.

The shock of watching his friend go down with a pained groan sobers up Tom. Unfortunately, it fails to restore more control over his limbs, and all he can do is keep his head lifted to watch the scene with horrified eyes. “Wh-what are you doing?” he finally manages to ask in a croak.

Kale rears his leg back and solidly drives his foot into Chris’ side. He turns to Tom with an absolute crazed expression on his face. His smile stretches from cheek to cheek as he pants heavily. His pale, blue eyes are blown wide and round. “Delivering a message of course.”

He bends down to Chris’ level, and Tom hears the stage whisper delivered to the Aussie. “You know where to find us. Really wish you’d taken me up on my offer or had some more of the wine.” Just as Chris lifts his head, the bottle comes down on it, and with a sickening crack, he collapses into an unconscious heap.

Tom only hears the sound of his own harsh breathing as it comes in and out in gasps. He tries reaching out to Chris only to be yanked to his feet once more. Struggling proves futile, and he is lifted into Kale’s arms. He keeps calling Chris’ name while trying to deliver blows to their attacker. They are feeble at best and only serve to make Kale laugh as he tightens his hold around Tom’s body. The only reassurance he gets of Chris’ health is the slight movement of the younger man’s body as he continues to breathe.

As they move further and further away from the little vacation spot, he keeps his eyes firmly trained on Chris willing him to please be okay.

* * *

The air contains an unpleasant odor that Tom cannot place his finger on. Every labored breath he sucks in through his nostrils force his lungs to take in the odious scent. He shifts in the hard-backed chair having regained the ability to move, and his restraints chafe at his every move. He tries his damndest to stare straight ahead at the wall with the uninspiring hotel art of a nondescript forest. The longer he glares at the oil painting, the more the browns and greens that compose the tree line begin to blur together and create something comparable to camouflage.

A hand waves in front of his face to snap him out of his reverie. “Still with me, Curly Sue?” Then that face—that cursed face which would normally offer him solace but now only serves to torture him—places itself in his vision. The easy-going grin sidling over that oh-so-familiar face causes his gut to curdle in disgust. His eyes lock with cold, unfeeling blue ones for a second before he turns his head away in defiance.

A strong hand grips his chin and forcibly turns his head back to face his captor. The grin has been replaced by a hard, thin line. “You think you’re too good for me too, eh Curly Sue?”

Tom refuses to answer even as the grip on his chin tightens to painful lengths. His face is finally released with a thrust, and he resumes his staring contest with the oil painting. He senses the man crouching down to his side, and he curses at the ropes binding him to the chair as this man places a hand on his kneecap. It is not a casual touch—though that would be just as unwelcome—as it lingers up to his thigh and threatens to go inwards.

Tom’s composure finally snaps as he tries to swat at the unwanted touch with his bound hands. “Don’t touch me,” he practically snarls.

A sleazy grin he is unused to seeing spreads over his captor’s face, and the loathed hand remains where it is. “Got some spittle in you. I like that,” he emphasizes his interest with a squeeze which freezes Tom’s insides. “But why all the resistance? I’m sure he touches you all the time.”

Tom freezes at the insinuation and curses the fact that this man—Kale—could feel it.

Kale chuckles. “You think that what you have is oh so secret and private? That no one else can see what you do behind closed doors? Please,” he drawls with a slow roll of the eyes. “I could see every sordid detail play out on his face the second he saw us together. Your boy’s got some serious jealousy issues. ”

Now Tom’s quick turn of the head and slight parting of lips are born from surprise. Was jealousy really the other fleeting emotion on Chris’ face the first time he had seen Kale and Tom just this very morning? The younger man’s behavior starts to add up, but Tom can’t believe it. Realizing his slip-up, he quickly tries to school his features.

It fails as Kale barks coldly. “What’s this now? You tellin’ me that what you felt for my convenient doppelganger ain’t mutual? That you thought you were harborin’ one-sided feelings?” He laughs, and it is a dark, twisted thing which makes Tom closes his eyes in the hope of tuning it out. They snap back open as that overly hot hand sensually strokes his thigh.“If I’d been him—which I will be soon—then you’d have known me in the Biblical sense a loooong time ago.”

“You’re not him,” snaps Tom. Saying it out loud dispels the lingering tendrils of disgust which laced his original feelings for Chris.

As if picking up on the last of his thoughts, the man quips, “But I look just like him.”

“An unfortunate fact which can be quickly remedied,” bites Tom through clenched teeth.

Kale grabs Tom’s face again and waves a switchblade in front of his eyes. “Oh, you’ve got a nice little mouth on you.” He trails the flat part of the blade down Tom’s cheeks. “It’s that tongue I’m not so fond of.”

“How terrible for you,” deadpans Tom. His head tilts upward as Kale rises from his crouch but continues to maintain his hold. The hand slides to hold his throat as the man steps behind his chair. He suppresses his shudder as the fingers clutching him start stroking him tenderly. It takes all his will power to not throw-up as he feels the scratch of facial hair brushing against the shell of his ear.

“I’ll tell you what I’m going to do since you’ve proven to be such a captive audience,” murmurs Kale into his ear. “Your knight’s going to come gallivanting in and will predictably bargain for your life with his own. But I’m not just gonna take his life. That’s not enough. Never is really. I’m going to slice him up in all the right places until he’s lying right there,” he points to a generic spot in front of the chair Tom’s strapped to, “with the life draining out of him, and no hope of survival.”

Tom squashes his cry of distress as tongue darts out to flick at the shell of his ear. “But that’s not where it ends. As he lies there bleeding out all over the floor, I’m going give him a nice little show as a parting gift.”

Now that nose is buried into the length of Tom’s neck, and he has nowhere to turn as it takes a deep inhale. “I’m going to fuck you. And I’m going to take you in the worst ways possible, Curly Sue. You’ll be screaming and panting my name with that little mouth of yours,” the fingers of the hand holding the blade squash his mouth closed, and two digits try to enter his mouth. Tom resolutely keeps his mouth shut.

“Torn between pleasure,” the fingers on his neck drag against his throat as if in an effort to arouse, “and pain,” Tom splutters as the hand tightens and cuts off his air supply. “Not knowing if you want me to dig in harder or just stop completely. And then when you’ve spilled harder,” the grip is absolutely crushing his throat at this point, and Tom feels pinpricks of tears forming in the corners of his eyes as he futilely twists against it, “than you’ve ever known you could, I’m going to gut you,” Kale slowly traces the blade up his stomach, and Tom shivers from the contact, “like the squealing little swine that you are. Then if he’s still alive by that point, I’ll slit his throat for good measure.”

The hand releases his throat, and Tom is left gasping for air. The tears trickling down his face serve as a testament to his shaken state. “You’re a vile excuse for a human being,” he spits.

A hand places itself in his hair, and he means to elude its grasp, but it takes hold and yanks his head back. “I am what I am,” admits Kale airily. “But that’s enough with the monologue. I think I do hear lover-boy approaching.”

Tom’s eyes widen, and he feels as if he’s been drenched in ice water. He draws a breath, determined to at least warn Chris away. Unfortunately, his captor is one step ahead of him as a bandana gets tightly pulled into his mouth. Kale knots it with a decided viciousness, and Tom feels some of his hairs are caught in the knot. He shouts in indignation, but all of his bitter curses are effectively muffled.

Arms drape across his front, and a head leans on his shoulder. He squirms in place which only emboldens Kale to draw his arms closer together so that his hands oh so conveniently splay across his chest.

“Sorry, dear. Couldn’t have you spoilin’ the fun now could I?” The question is accompanied by a kiss on the cheek, and Tom is thankful at that moment for cloth around his face preventing him from feeling those lips against his skin.

The sound of displaced leaves reaches their ears. Some kind of skittering takes place on the other side of the door. Every single sound sets Tom’s nerves on edge. Despite the gag, he tries his best to yell out to the other man.

Kale smacks him upside the head and growls. Addressing Chris, he yells, “I know you’re out there so why don’t you come on in and join the party! Tommy here is very eager to see you.”

Tom sucks air in through his nose as the door creaks open. When Chris finally edges into the room, their eyes immediately lock. A small sense of comfort manages to make it through all of the panic. These are the eyes that he knows well. The eyes that set him aflame as they pierce through him. Blue as a cloudless sky and capable of striking him down like lightning. He’s not sure how he ever mixed the two of them in his head. Right now these eyes assess him to make sure he is all right while promising retribution on the man who has done this to him. When Chris’ gaze drifts to Kale, he immediately draws his own switchblade.

“Get the fuck away from him,” he snarls.

The same instance Chris draws the knife, Tom feels metal kissing the flesh of his throat. He leans away from it only to have a tongue lick the long curve of his neck. A muffled whine bursts from him, and he tries to buck away from the undesired contact, but his knots remain firm. Chris grips his knife with a renewed fury, and laughter bubbles up from Kale.

“Oh, this is gonna be so much _fun_.”

Chris glowers at Kale with a burning hatred matching that of the sun, and Tom stares at Chris in an attempt to assess his injuries. Besides the inflammation of red surrounding his nose, he appears to be fine. He wavers in place by a fraction, and the sound of the bottle coming down on his head echoes even louder in Tom’s ears.

His preoccupation with Chris’ injuries is interrupted at the small slice he feels in his neck. He hisses at the pain only to whine again as a hot, wet mouth descends upon the mark. His eyes enlarge at the sensation as the sloppily insistent mouth proceeds to suck. The knife digging underneath his chin keeps him from moving away as a tongue runs itself over the cut.

He startles in his seat as the other hand nestles in his lap and reaches for his bathing suit area. This action emboldens Chris to stagger forward which serves to remove that mouth and aggressively replace it with the knife which digs into his skin even more without breaking it.

Chris stutters to a stop though Tom can see it takes all of his internal restraint. Kale’s large hand still remains over his groin, and Chris glares at it as if he could set it on fire. That hand slowly drags up Tom’s front, into his shirt, and casually rests on the restrained actor’s stomach. Tom inhales stilted breaths through his nostrils, and his heartbeat pounds between his ears.

“Why don’t you stop using him as a shield and face me?”

“That doesn’t sound beneficial to me,” replies Kale as the empty hand purposefully rubs his stomach. The sensation is altogether unpleasant.

“It’s not supposed to be,” seethes Chris.

Kale laughs his breathy little bark and withdraws his hand to shake a finger at Chris. “See. You’re no fun. All blunt and concise.” The hand removes itself from his stomach and pets Tom’s forehead and hair back as if he were a well-behaved dog. “Not like Tommy here.”

“What exactly is it that you want?” demands Chris.

The hand in Tom’s hair freezes. “Want? There’s a lot of things that I want, but never in my wildest masturbatory fantasies did I even picture my most lurid desire to fall so easily into my lap. To start anew. Receive not just a boring clean slate, but a slate with some built in respect and perhaps some eager followers.” He continues stroking Tom’s head with renewed fervor. “ And I get to participate in my favorite pastime in order to get it! Wouldn’t have it any other way really.”

Tom’s breathing absolutely stills at this point as he processes this with the random tidbits Kale had tossed out before Chris showed up.

“Why go through all this then?” asks Chris bewilderedly. His voice escalates to a breaking point. “Why not just stab the pair of us back at the beach and get it over with?”

“I like a challenge,” replies Kale airily. “And it’s not any fun to jump straight into dessert before finishing off the main course.”

Chris’ eyes make contact with Tom’s again, and the Brit is overwhelmed with the swell of concern and guilt within them. He can see the moment the younger man makes a decision and tries shaking his head and verbally protesting to convince him otherwise. Kale’s hand leaves his hair to grip his throat and hold his head still.

Chris’ eyes narrow dangerously at the move, and the grip on his blade tightens eve more. “Whatever weird grudge you have against me, just leave him out of this.”

Tom shakes as he feels the exhalation of warm breath fan against his ear. Whiskered skin brushes against the appendage, and heated words are whispered into it. “What did I tell you?” The grip on his throat tightens once more and as a pained whimper escapes his throat several things happen at once.

Chris’ restraint snaps as he goes surging forward. Tom can finally breathe again as the hand wrapped around his neck releases him. But then that hand grips the back of his chair, and with a shove, Tom finds himself hurtling towards the floor. His bones rattled inside of him at the impact. The sound of pained grunts which are not his own has him craning his head back to see what he’s missing.

In the tangle of bronzed skin and hard muscle, he discerns Chris has tackled the other man against the wall and is currently trying to fend off a knife to the side. His own weapon remains out of sight. Tom bucks up at the sight of it, and hope soars as he feels some give around his chest. He keeps moving and wriggling as wildly as he can and eventually the ropes loosen enough that he can maneuver his hands to push them up and off of him. The bandana is the next thing to be yanked out, and he bends to try and undo his leg restraints. The knots around his leg he is able to untie, but though he can make the stretch, the knots around his ankles remain tight in his frenzied state.

A cry has him looking back at the fight, and he is mortified to find one of Kale’s blows has made their mark. While the blade is not buried to the hilt in Chris’ shoulder, its very presence in his flesh is a disturbing sight. What is even more disturbing is the gleam of triumph in Kale’s eyes and the sneer pulling at his lips as he looks straight at Tom.

True to form, Chris bolsters on by yanking the knife out with his other arm and elbowing Kale in the face. The spell is broken, and Tom returns his attention to his own predicament. It is then his eyes happen to locate Chris’ discarded knife. It is in proximity of him, and he desperately reaches out to grab it.

His fingers graze against the pointed end, and he pushes forward to snatch it. He holds down his wince as it encloses within his fist and frantically works to free his legs. He hurriedly saws at the rope and kicks out when he senses the bonds having weakened enough. He rolls out from the chair and is about to turn the blade on the binds still holding his wrists together when he glances up at the fight still taking place.

Like something out of a movie, Kale has pinned Chris on his back and is driving his knife towards the Aussie’s vital regions. Chris gallantly tries to fend off the move with his good arm, but Kale presses closer with every passing second. Without a second thought, Tom stumbles to his feet and slams himself shoulder first into their attacker.

The reverberation of the impact into the wall travels through the other man’s body into Tom’s, and he thrusts the blade into Kale’s thigh. The pinned man grunts, and a clatter reaches Tom’s ears but then a hand wraps around his bound ones. Kale pushes against the wall and tries pinning Tom to the floor, but he brings his knee up, and it connects with the other man’s gut. While Kale groans, he still maintains the momentum to trap Tom on his back. A hand wraps around his throat and starts squeezing. He temporarily sees stars in his vision and then they disappear along with the pressure as Chris has rejoined the fight.

Tom regains his breath before jumping back into the fray. The two other men grapple at each other now and blood pours freely from their wounds. Tom spies the hilt of Chris’ knife still buried in Kale while Kale’s own lies abandoned on the floor. As he leans forward on his bound wrists, another idea hits him.

Picking up the abandoned weapon, he stands back up and awaits the opportune moment. When Kale’s back is to him, he jumps forward and digs the knife in between those shoulder blades. As the man’s head rears back to release a cry of pain, Tom fits his arms around his neck and starts yanking backward. The knots chafe into his skin, but he ignores it as he hears the retching of the man at his mercy. He angles his arm so as to maintain a better chokehold and tries avoiding the powerful arms which now claw backwards at him.

“Chris, the knife!” he cries out as he positions to stay upright.

With lightning speed, Chris lurches forward and viciously twists the knife embedded in Kale’s thigh before tugging it out. The assaulter gives another cry, and Tom feels him slightly slacken beneath him. He still puts up a fight which is when Chris grabs the ropes once used to fasten Tom and ensnares the other man’s flailing limbs with them. Even when secured, Tom doesn’t let go until the man is practically putty in his arms. Finally releasing him, Kale slumps to the ground with a thump, and Chris goes about securing him with the various knots he undoubtedly picked up from his life on the farm.

Tom slides to the ground during this and just continues to breath slowly so as to not become overwhelmed with what has just transpired. He flinches when Chris settles in front of him, but the guilty look on his friend’s face instantly floods him with his own set of guilt. Chris tentatively reaches for his hands, and Tom closes the gap and folds both of his over Chris’ warm one. He squeezes appreciatively and softly smiles. The smile is reciprocated.

Chris takes Tom’s wrists in one hand and with the other, cuts off the last of his ropes. Without any further ado, Tom wraps both his arms around Chris for a hug. The Aussie gives him a one-armed squeeze around the waist which causes the smile to widen.

Then the smile quickly leaves his face, as one arms feels something we. Chris’ wounds are quick to resurface to his man, and he draws back. “Jesus! I’m so sorry! What was I thinking? We need to get you medical attention!”

Chris winces and grunts and then simply burrows his head into Tom’s chest. Tom’s fingers immediately begin brushing through his blond locks, and though he is mindful to avoid any bumps, Chris still tenses and hisses at an accidental brush. “You’re telling me, mate.”

* * *

The duo watches as the paramedics airlift Kale from the island. Both Tom and Chris ardently refused the offer to be flown back to the capitol even with Chris’ injuries. Tom spouts off some crazy fear about the helicopter meeting a “mysterious” accident in the middle of the ocean in which only “Chris” survives only for it to turn out to be Kale who then comes back after Tom with a psychotic vengeance. Everyone stares at Tom after this, and it takes much convincing to get them to believe that it was not Tom who was struck over the head with a bottle.

Chris gets patched up as best as they can do at the moment, and both men swear to make as much haste back to the closest town where they had conveniently noticed a clinic. Along with the police escort, they make good time, and both men’s wounds are tended to. Afterwards, the police get their statements and give their deepest condolences about their ruined trip. Kale was indeed an escaped convict who had disappeared from the grid for a good year. His list of crimes is long, and the two actors will be compensated for their hand in his recapture.

After the police have gone, and the people at the clinic give their okay, the two men check in at a nearby villa to finally catch their breath. Tom lies spread eagle on the only bed (it was the only room available, and the two weren’t particularly picky at this point) while Chris remains perched on the edge. Without thinking, Tom’s fingers trace the bend of his broad back and rather than shy away from the touch, Chris appears to lean back into it.

The conversation with his captor flits into his head and cause him to draw his hand away. The action causes Chris to turn and look at him.

“Chris,” begins Tom softly as he scoots into a sitting position, “there’s something I need to confess.” He makes sure to keep his hands carefully folded in front of him and has his head bowed so as not to see the look on his friend’s face. “I know that you came on this vacation to get away and put your mind at ease—“

“Look how that turned out,” mutters the Aussie.

Tom can’t help his bitter smile and short laugh before he continues on. “And aside from encountering your psychotic doppelganger from hell, I don’t know if that end could have been achieved simply because you chose for me to accompany you.”

A large hand comes within view to settle on top of his, but he refuses to look up. “Tom, what are you talking about?”

“I like you,” blurts out Tom as he tucks his head in to his chest and clamps his eyes shut. “As more than a friend. I’ve tried to just enjoy this trip with you on a platonic level but that just wasn’t possible. And with the addition of the bizarre circumstances we found ourselves in, it’s really only reaffirmed my feelings or you. Which I know isn’t what you need right now, and I’m sorry for unloading this on you, but I had to let you know before we parted ways again.” He falls silent and opens his eyes to watch Chris’ hand over his. It strikes him how he’ll miss moments like this.

Then he feels a finger gently nudging his chin upwards. He allows it and is surprised to find Chris smiling bemusedly at him with a twinkle in his blue eyes. “I feel exactly the same,” he says quietly in return.

Tom’s eyes widen in surprise, and he can’t help his slight gasp. His mind works at millions of miles a second as he processes this. Then his brain stops thinking completely as Chris closes the gap between them and kisses him. Tom’s hand immediately rises to brush through Chris’ hair, and the younger man’s hand automatically moves to cusp his neck.

Chris starts shifting so as to straddle Tom and begins pushing him back down on the bed. When Tom throws an arm over Chris’ shoulder, this is when they break apart as the Aussie hisses in pain.

“Oh, shit! I’m so sorry,” apologizes Tom again as he quickly withdraws his arm.

“It’s fine,” says Chris through gritted teeth.

Tom’s hand hovers above the injury before softly cupping the side of Chris’ face. “Maybe this wasn’t the best time to jump right into love making.”

Chris titters and touches his forehead to Tom’s. “This is true,” he replies and gives him a peck to the lips before easing down beside him on the bed.

Tom readjusts to lie on his side so he can face Chris. Chris does likewise. Their hand clasp together, and Tom presses closer until there is virtually no space between them. Looking straight into Chris’ face, something unravels in his chest. It feels great to once more look at Chris and not have a strange shiver accompany it. One small knot remains though.

“This isn’t a rebound thing is it?” he asks nervously. “Because you meet the worst people on the rebound.” He tries to smile, but it wavers right off.

Chris’ return smile nearly outshines the lamp in their room. He knocks his forehead against Tom’s once more and brushes a thumb against Tom’s cheekbone. “Not you,” he answers as he places a kiss on Tom’s forehead. “Never you,” he reaffirms as he kisses him again on the nose.

Tom sighs and takes the initiative to kiss Chris’s lips. He knows they have more to discuss, but it’s been a long day, and this feels exceptionally nice. His tongue seeks entrance and is granted permission, and he pulls even closer to deepen the kiss. They both make pleasurable moans, and he is mindful to avoid Chris’ injury this time.

As both Chris’ hands and mouth travel lower, Tom arches into the touch and can’t help the strange thought that this wasn’t such a bad vacation. It will definitely sound better in a retelling

**Author's Note:**

> I assumed Hemsworth's character in the movie was going to be a hick serial killer. Turns out he wasn't but then I started entertaining the idea of Tom and Chris being on vacation and meeting this dark doppleganger. Thus this little monster was born.
> 
> And for the curious, Kale will stay in jail with no chance of parole. He will never escape.


End file.
